The Sunlit Garden: Postlude
by Beeblebabe
Summary: A duelist gives up. Or perhaps he doesn't at all.


The walk back from Juri's home had somehow been easier than the walk there. His pace was slow, each step a measured pace in an exact rhythm. His eyes remained fixed straight ahead on the brief walk, but his ears caught the music of the birds singing the morning around him. He'd woken Juri early and told her that she was right; she was right about everything, and he would be okay. She'd been wary about letting him go home, but she allowed it, and promised to come check up on him that night. 

He'd never lied to her before. He felt sorry for that.

The front door was locked, as he'd left it the night before. He locked it behind him again after coming in, as he always did. Miki stepped in and slipped off his shoes, placing them in their usual spot in the entryway. His coat went neatly on a hanger and into the hall closet. He paused there and looked at the house. There, flowers arranged perfectly in a pristine vase, resting on a table without a speck of dust. There, the orderly row of shoes. There, the expensive rug spread out on hardwood flooring, not a tassel out of place. He almost smiled, but only almost. He bowed his head faintly and walked up the stairs.

The bedroom was as he had left it; both beds were unmade, his in greater disarray than hers. He went to Kozue's first, smoothing out the wrinkles in the sheets with his hands, rearranging the pillows, and then neatly tucking the blankets back into place. Again, he nearly smiled. That part had been so easy. He frowned at his bed; the blankets were wadded near the foot of the bed, the sheet wrinkled, the pillows scattered and uneven. He winced faintly as he placed his hands on the covers, pulling them away. They were folded and placed aside; the sheets and pillowcases followed, making a neat stack on the floor. Miki picked up the linens, shuddering almost imperceptibly, and walked back downstairs. They all fit neatly in the trash. He would have preferred to wash, then burn the bedclothes, but there was really no time. He stopped to wash his hands, once, twice, then again, and checked his watch. At least things were proceeding as scheduled. Miki put fresh linens on his bed, neatly making it until it perfectly matched its twin. After taking a few seconds to double-check and admire his work, he moved on to the bathroom.

A glass bead rolled to rest against his foot as he stepped into the bathroom. He sighed as he looked down to see dozens of the tiny, pale blue decorative beads scattered across the white tile floor. He picked up the small, seashell-shaped bowl that had held the useless ornaments and shook his head. Kozue had stormed in here last night... He sighed and went to his knees, picking up the beads one by one and placing them back in the bowl. When the shell was full of glass again and returned to its normal position on the counter by the sink, he turned his eyes up to the medicine cabinet. He didn't bother to look at himself in the mirror before opening it.

He didn't remember buying sleeping pills, but there they were, just where he'd known they would be. When he opened the bottle, it snapped in such a way to let him know that it had never been opened before. He emptied the bottle into his hand. The pills were small and blue, dark like the ocean. He counted them. There were thirty two. He filled the glass by the sink with water. It only took him two minutes and twelve seconds to take them all.

He closed the medicine cabinet and washed his hands. He turned off the light in the bathroom and walked downstairs to his piano.

The light of morning did not break through the shades in the room of... what was his name again? Kozue didn't remember, nor did she care. She stared into the gray-blue darkness of the unfamiliar dorm room and crossed her arms across her still naked chest, almost hugging herself. She probably should have been cold, or uncomfortable in the dark, or a countless number of things that any normal girl her age should have been, but she was simply nothing at all.

She was too busy listening to the music.

It had started a few moments before. Miki's music, in her ears. She hated that song. It wasn't fair of him to make her hear it now, just because they were twins. It was always the same, always so perfect, just like Miki.

Except now it wasn't.

The song had started perfectly as usual, four sixteenth notes in soft legato in the right hand, followed by the gently rolling bass in the left, effortlessly flowing underneath the melody. But then it changed. The tempo was off. He played far too slowly, the notes almost lazy, held for too long. His fingers kept slipping, too, hitting two keys at once, or the wrong key all together.

Kozue wrapped her arms more tightly around herself. What the hell is wrong with him? she thought, distantly. She felt the cold, now.

The normally fluid scales of the bridge were clumsy, fingers not quite slipping over one another in time for the next note to be played. The left hand dropped out completely, leaving only a shaky, sloppy melody. Soon, even that became unrecognizable, until he just seemed to be striking random keys on the piano.

He played one last note. It was an A. Kozue could almost hear a faint thud as the note rang away into nothingness.

And then she felt nothing. Nothing at all.

The next morning, it took Miki a long time to wake up. Normally, he woke alert, before the alarm could even go off. Today, though, he felt oddly groggy... but, then again, he had not slept much last night. He looked out the window at an unfamiliar view of morning. Perhaps he would go home today. The thought chilled him, for some reason. Perhaps it would be better to stay with Juri a few more days. That would be for the best. Yes, it would be for the best. 

Kozue woke up cold, and she could not get that damn song out of her head. 


End file.
